


Run Away With Me Now

by mugsandpugs



Series: Do You Feel It? [2]
Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: C137cest, F/M, Incest, Smut and Angst, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-22
Updated: 2017-08-22
Packaged: 2018-12-18 12:18:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11874246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mugsandpugs/pseuds/mugsandpugs
Summary: It takes three weeks and two nights after their initial forced encounter before Summer is knocking at his door again, avoiding his eyes and insisting she can't sleep.He hates himself for caving so easily, but who are they kidding. They were screwed from the start.





	Run Away With Me Now

The knock on the garage door isn't wholly unexpected.

Lying on his cot in nothing but a pair of briefs, halfway towards drunk already, he still knows better than to answer. That he's the adult, the responsible one, the trustworthy one that should have nothing but her wellbeing at heart. 

He lurches to his feet anyway. Slaps a palm on the wall when the world sways, and makes his unsteady way towards the sound that echoes again- different than Morty's knock, though not in a concrete way he can explain. He just Knows. 

He hesitates for a moment with his hand on the doorknob. He could still stop this. He just had to wait until she gave up and went to her own bed. Better yet, he could tell her to leave. 

He opens the door. 

She's a tall girl, and he sees little more than her silhouette lit up by the screen of her phone, which she is using as a flashlight. When she moves her head, he sees the rectangular blue of the screen reflect twice off her large eyes. 

"I can't sleep," she says quietly- not a whisper, but not loud enough to carry either. 

He has to try. "You shouldn't be here," he says, but he's already moving back, giving her space to enter. She comes into the monsters' den: one step, two. 

"Do you want me to go?" She avoids his eyes when she asks. Her carroty-red hair is down, rumpled from where she was undoubtedly tossing and turning on her pillow, wanting, debating, talking herself in and out of the inevitable. How many nights has she fought this battle with herself and won? Was she just tired of fighting? 

His throat is dry. She's wearing a large t-shirt that comes down almost to her knees. Some faded red Disneyland thing- the peeling image of Micky Mouse beams out at him from between her breasts. He knows she's naked underneath the shirt. It makes his heart sink. It makes his blood warm. 

_You need to leave,_ is morphed, twisted in his mouth. It stops dead in his throat and emerges as something as damning as it is true: "I want you to stay." 

There's a soft hitch in her breathing, and then she nods, closing the door behind her. Her phone screen goes dark, and they're left standing in blackness before his fumbling hand finds not only the light, but also her hand on top of it, keeping him from flicking the switch. 

"Don't-" she starts to say. Then, "I'd rather it stay dark." 

He supposes that's fair. He's also quite aware that his hand is still pinning hers down. 

He brings his free hand to her cheek, feeling the soft curve of her face, where bone bows under flesh to shape her features. She's so close that he can feel her soft exhales on the skin of his throat. 

"Summer-girl," he says, and is silenced when she clumsily kisses him. There's no way in hell he can taste halfway decent but that doesn't deter her from slipping her tongue into his mouth as quickly as possible, and he wraps it with his, sucks at the tip, slips his hand from her cheek to the back of her head to soften the impact when he has her back against the wall. 

"Fuck," he curses himself as he plasters his bony old body to her softer one, a desperate and hungry wolf in an old man's skin. She's just so _new,_ and he's always had a weakness for falling in the darkest hole he possibly can. It doesn't get much darker than hiking his granddaughter's thigh around his hip so that he can press closer to her heat. 

God she's wet. He can feel it against the new bulge in his briefs, smearing her heady scent over him. 

She fists her hands in his hair, and he thinks she's trying to pull him off, so he stills, but she's only wrenching his head to her throat. "Yours?" 

If she intended for the statement to sound confident, her uncertainty is given away by the tremble in her voice. 

He obliges with a growl so low it makes her shiver all the way down to her toes: "Fucking _mine."_ Then he sinks his teeth into the curve of her shoulder and smiles at her moan, still in enough control to bite low enough for most shirts to cover. No sense in alerting her parents. 

Her parents. His _daughter..._ They'd be so ashamed and sickened if they had any idea. 

That should not be as hot as he suddenly finds it. He knows, has always known, how sick of a bastard he really is. 

"You want, want me to, t-to fuck you against the wall like this, my Summer-girl?" he asks. "Or, or what did you have in mind? I can just eat you, like last time. Make my baby feel good. Or-" 

"Can we move to the cot?" she pants, turning her head to the side and grinding her hips, rubbing the hard nub of her clit against his cock in her need to get off. "Please, grandpa, I need-" 

She squeaks when he hoists her up, wiry strength and urgency and the feel of two thick thighs squeezing his waist as he cups her meaty ass in his palms. The hair between her legs rubs his stomach as he carries her, maneuvering better in the dark than he should through rote memory. The squeal of springs as her back hits the cot is the loudest sound in the world. 

Her hands are on his hips before he can so much as bend over her. "Come on, come _on,"_ she's urging him, and her desperation is palpable and catching and so fucking hot, but he has to still himself a moment. 

"You on the pill, baby?" His lips meet her pulse point. "Grandpa's gotta look out for you." 

She turns his head; his nose grazes her cheek. "Yes-" 

"Baby, don't you lie to your grandpa." There's a stern warning note in his voice that brings back that shiver. He pushes her shirt up to her neck, leaving her all but naked and spread underneath him. He cups her mound in his hand, brings a thumb to her clit. _"Are_ you on the pill?" 

"No," she admits. "But I still, I still want you to-" 

"D-d-don't worry." He pushes a finger to the knuckle inside her pussy, making her squeak again. "I'm still fucking you." 

He works a second finger into her pussy, then grins as her back stiffens when he slips a pinkie into her ass. _"Grandpa-"_

"I fuckin' love to hear you call me that," he admits. "And I love your big, soft titties." He nuzzles his face into her sternum, feeling her warm tits cup his face. He tilts his head to bite softly at the underside of one and is gratified when her back bows, her fingers card through his hair again. "You a virgin, sweetheart?" 

"No," she says, so defensively that he knows it's a sore subject. "I, um. Did it with Steve a couple times." 

"Did he make you cum?" He punctuates this by slipping his ring finger up her ass right next to his pinkie- the Spock; a classic- and fucking her slow as a gentle lover with his whole hand, thumb flat to her clit. "Was he as good as me?" 

She's blushing. He knows it, even if he can't see it, and his grin worsens into a smirk when she throws an arm over her eyes. _"No,_ okay?! Why do you think I came in here?" 

_Because we started something we can't stop, even if it makes the whole world crash down around us._

It's easier to increase the speed of his finger-banging than answer that, and despite her initial protests, she's grinding her hips down easily onto his knuckles, taking it in both holes like she has something to prove. She's moaning under him; the smell of her sweat and pussy is strong in the air. He crooks her fingers, jerks his thumb in buzzy little pulses over her clit, and then has to clamp his free hand on her mouth when she moans loud enough for it to echo. 

"Nobody's ever made you cum like that, not as fast as I can," he declares smugly, and she's panting too hard to respond.

He squeezes onto the cot beside her, pulls her on top of him like a blanket, and works the shirt off over her head. His hands know to lightly rub her back, and his lips press kisses to her face of their own accord. Motions he doesn't bother to make with most people he fucks, but he can't really treat her like just anyone, can he? 

Maybe it would be better if he did. 

He almost falls asleep like that, but before long she's stirring again. Damn eighteen-year-olds and their seemingly endless reserves of energy. 

"Thought you were gonna f-fuck me." 

She almost says it without stuttering. The mile-wide mean streak inside of him wants to make fun of her for it, but he bites his own tongue to keep it in. "I'm an old man, sweet thing," he says, giving nothing away when she moves her leg to straddle him. "Maybe that's all the fuck I had in me." 

"Now who's lying." She starts to rock down on his cock, and it's as awkward and inexperienced as her kiss, but he lets her do it, lets her figure it out. She braces her hands on his shoulders after a moment and uses her knees digging into the cot on either side of him for leverage. This feels better for both of them. "I know you've gone all night with groups. A round with me shouldn't be too much, right?" 

There's a quality in her voice that he's too smart to mistake for anything else. "You're jealous. You don't want me fucking other people, do you?" 

She absolutely hears the smug smile in his voice, because she stills, fingers curling into painful grips on his shoulders. "Shut up. I never said that. Quit putting words in my mouth." 

Easy to read as a child. 

"That's not a good path to go on." He figures if he's stealing honesty from her, he might as well give some of his own. "There's not a single person I've fucked that I haven't hurt." 

"Grandpa." She sighs in exasperation. "Is there anyone in the entire universe that you haven't hurt?" 

Okay, ouch. But it's the truth. If anything, it's a gross understatement. He's hurt more universes than he can ever hope to remember. 

"As long as you know I'm gonna break your heart." 

"Can't break what's already broken." 

She's wrong about that. Maybe one day she'll understand just how wrong she is.

"There's condoms in the pillowcase." He waits for her to reach under his head, fingers closing around a foil packet that she drops on his chest. She raises up on her knees so he can wiggle his own underwear off, then pinches the tip of the rubber and rolls it down his length with the mundane ease of a lifetime of experience. "Y-you go at your own pace. You're plenty wet and stretched so it shouldn't hurt. If it hurts, you need to tell me." 

He didn't care, most of the time, whether he hurt his lovers. Most of them liked the sting of overstretching, over-stimulation. He was not ready, yet, to physically harm his grandaughter, but there was always a deeper hole to fall into eventually.

There's a moment of quiet as she shifts. He holds still when she grabs onto him, maneuvers him around- maybe she is more experienced than she lets on- and slides down onto him. It feels good- of course it feels good. Like pizza, pussy is hard to get wrong. She makes an almost thoughtful _hm_ sound. 

"N-n-not to your liking, princess?" he asks, eyebrow raised. 

"It's not that. It just feels weird. I haven't done it like this before." 

"I assume you've seen the gist of this in porno though?" There's an attitude to the silence, and he almost laughs. "Oh come on, don't pretend you're not a horny freak l-l-like everyone else in your family. For a bunch of repressed geeks, you all torrent a lot of porn." 

"Says the guy balls-deep inside his grandaughter." 

This time he does laugh. _There's_ the family's patented graveyard humor that even her father's weak genes weren't able to completely nullify. 

He's still laughing when she finds a rhythm, experimentally bouncing up and down his shaft. It's not the best, for either of them, but he'll not have a repeat of the tense, panicked experience inside the lab. He plays along when she gets something good going, squeezing her breasts, pulling her down to suck a nipple into his mouth, grinning at the indignant squawk she makes when he lands a light slap on her ass (interesting how _that,_ of all things, makes her clench down harder on him with her internal muscles, though. He considers having some fun with this knowledge later). 

"Mind if I, if I-I-I switch some things up, Summer-girl?" he asks, and she gives breathy assent, so he hooks a leg round her waist and rolls them both over. He pounds into her in missionary for a while- it's a classic for a reason- and it has them both too breathless for laughter. _Fuck, fuck, fuck._ He laves her sensitive ear with his tongue and feels blunted fingernails scrabble at his back, which makes him groan. He's no stranger to enjoying pain. 

"You like that, sweet girl?" he asks boldly, wishing the light was on so he could watch her tits bounce as he jackhammered her, watch her face go blotchy and red from exertion and her hips rise to meet him. _Next time..._ "You like grandpa's cock?" 

"Yes," she manages to get out, sounding almost angry through clenched teeth. "Fucking. Just. Give me _more!"_

Oh, he shouldn't be enjoying her bratty, spoiled tone as as much as he is, but whatever. It wasn't like there was even the smallest chance he wasn't going straight to hell someday, anyway. He pulls out and relishes in her entitled whining for a moment before ordering, "Turn around. I want you on your hands and knees."

She does so quickly, wanting to get back to the pleasure of two bodies moving in tandem, and he plants a hand between her shoulderblades, lowering her chest to the cot. "You said you wanted more," is his only response, and he slips his cock between her thighs and plasters against her back like a second skin, letting it rub against her, teasing her clit. She tries to move against him, chase the sensation, but in this position he has all the control. 

His tolerance and endurance has had decades longer to develop than hers. She cracks easily. "Would you just do it already?!" He feels her shoulderblades and back muscles shift underneath him, trying to sit up. He stops her by sliding a hand between her legs, finding her clit again. 

"I dunno, Summer." He's enjoying this. "Maybe I don't want to. Maybe I'll just get off like this." 

Oh, she's sweating now. She knows he's enough of a bastard to do just that. "Please, grandpa?" The bratty tone is gone. This one is sweeter, cajoling, meant to be paired with wide eyes and pouting lips. "You feel so good, grandpa. I'm so empty and aching without you. Can't you make it better for me?" 

The manipulative little shit. He loves it. Doesn't stop him from running the blunt head of his cock against her asshole, though, just to see what she'll do. She gasps, tenses, but doesn't tell him to stop. 

He'd never fuck anyone in the ass without lube. Well, maybe some people he really hated. But never her. Still, there's no reason to tell her that. He hesitates, as though it were a tough decision, before pushing into her vagina once more. It feels like coming home. 

He can fuck her more deeply like this, which had been the intent all along, and he does: pulling almost all the way out before slamming back inside. It feels great for him, and it cures her achy, empty feeling, but it's certainly not gonna make her cum again. 

He nuzzles his face between her arm and her body, breathing in the sharp scent of sweat, drinking it in. 

"Did you just-" she protests. "Ugh, you're so gross." 

He grins at that. She has no idea. "You like it. Rub your clit."

"Huh? Oh." She moves a hand between her own thighs and presumably begins doing just that. 

"Good girl," he praises huskily into her ear. He actually feels the goosebumps break out over her body. He'd figured her out from day one: attention-starved teen desperate for approval. If he wasn't damned before he first exploited that, he certainly is now. "Y-y-you're so good for me, Summer-girl. Playing with yourself for grandpa." 

She makes a strangled, keening sort of noise- with just a few words, he has her raw as an exposed nerve. 

"M-m-make yourself cum on grandpa's cock, okay sweetie?" 

He suspected it was possible to make her cum with nothing but his words; he'd have to test this theory out sometime. The thought made his balls feel tight. He adds a rolling snap to his hips that will no doubt make his abs feel like death tomorrow, but it's so, so worth it now. He could last forever if he put his mind to it, but honestly he's feeling about done with this for now, and soon she'll be too doped out on natural oxytocin and dopamine to want to move. 

He grips a handful of her hair, pulls a bit sharply, and hisses into her ear, "Don't forget that no matter who you fuck, you're still all mine." 

Her cries are muffled by the blanket of his bed, which she has clamped between her teeth as he feels her strong vaginal walls pulse and expand rapidly around him. It seems to last a lifetime. He bites onto the back of his own hand as he finishes inside her. 

Her legs give out not long after that, separating and sliding apart as she lands tummy-first on his bed. He pulls out and rolls off the top of her, removes and ties the condom, and flings it who-cares-where in the darkness. She moves automatically towards him, and he finds himself wondering whether he should be allowing this post-coital cuddling. Out of everything they'd just done, it seems the most dangerous for her mental wellbeing. 

What a fucked-up pair they make.

"Alright," he says, once their sweat has cooled and their heartbeats slowed. She's dangerously close to falling asleep, and he's too fatigued to carry her upstairs, or even to rig up some device that will do it for him. "Find your shirt and your phone and g-t-f-o." 

She pauses. "Seriously?" 

"Yeah, seriously, genius. What, you want your parents finding you bare-assed down here when they come wake you for school? That'll go over great. Have fun spending the rest of your life in group therapy with middle-aged women crying over their grandpas dressing up like Santa Claus every Christmas so he could make the kiddies bounce on his lap." He reaches around in the dark until he finds the bottle he'd abandoned earlier and sighs in relief when the first swig burns his throat and makes his eyes water. _There's_ the stuff. 

"I'm eighteen. They can't stop me from doing what I want." 

"Oh, is that the case? Then why don't you bring it up at breakfast?" He affects a falsetto mimicry of her voice. "Hey mom and dad, I like boinking grandpa. My body, my choice!" He then switches to a nasally imitation of her father's voice. "Summer, I'm just not okay with that! My micro-penis dictates that I pretend all living things under this roof I use my wife's money to pay for are under my control. My house, my rules." To sell the point, he manages a shockingly accurate whine of, _"Aww jeez,"_ in Morty's dulcet tones. 

Summer laughs. "Hey, that's pretty good. What would mom say?" 

"She'd probably just hold me at scalpel-point and tell me I'm sick, and that I need to get out before she calls the cops. Then she'd drink a lot. And stop that." He slaps away her hand reaching for his bottle. "Get your own."

"I can't; they don't sell to my age group." 

"You're not a true Sanchez if you can't fake a proper ID by now." _And I'd rather not directly be at fault for triggering your inevitable genetic alcoholism._

She wriggles against him, forcing her head under his chin like she intends to park it here all night despite the warning. He's had enough. 

"Up. Don't make me push your ass off of this cot. Your shirt's on the floor somewhere nearby. I think you dropped your phone by the door. And come back in a few days: I'll eat your pussy and ass until you forget your own name from screaming mine." 

He says this last part in the same bored, vaguely irritated tone he'd said the first part in, and is rewarded when her body gives a delayed, hungry shiver. After a slight pause, she rises to her feet, swears as her shin meets his worktable, and then several long minutes of clumsy searching follow before she's back at the door she'd initially knocked. 

"Good night, grandpa," she calls softly. 

He doesn't answer.


End file.
